Happy Father's Day ~ My column from today's paper

My dad died in May of 1986 when I was 35 and rarely does a day go by that I don’t think of him. Today when I put on my coveralls before working in the yard, I looked into the mirror and saw him looking back at me. He wore a pair of coveralls exactly like ones I was wearing. 

One of my favorite pictures of my dad was taken one summer evening several years before he died. He'd been cutting grass and was sitting under a water oak on a cinder block border of a flowerbed. 

He was wearing his gray coveralls. On his face was an enigmatic half-smile. With that smile, it seemed he knew a secret and wasn’t about to tell me what it was. That smile would have been handy had he played poker.

I snapped the unposed picture and it turned out to be one of the best I have of him.

He worked as a welder and was strong from years of manhandling steel. The shop where he worked was brutally hot during summer and smelled of ash, flux, and ozone. Looking closely, you could tell that he was a welder because, through the years, white-hot bits of welding splatter branded his wrists and forearms.

Before being drafted, I worked as a welder long enough to realize it wasn’t for me. When I completed my Army duty I looked for other employment. 

During my two years in uniform, I grew weary of “The Man” telling me I needed a haircut. After my release date, I decided to rebel against barbers. My hair grew to my shoulders as thick as thatch. It turns out the “hippy look” didn't resonate with my dad and he didn't hide his displeasure. 

I had a job at the time and was living on my own so I wasn't about to cut my hair because my dad didn't approve of it. That goofy little rift drove a wedge between us for more years than either of us could afford to lose. Looking back I could kick myself for being so stubborn, but I got that stubborn streak from him, so some of the responsibility rested on his shoulders.

I don't remember what changed. Perhaps it was when I married Jilda. My dad adored her. The last several years of his life we were much closer.

I read a book a few years ago entitled The Time Travelers Wife. It was about a guy that flitted back and forth in time. The downside of his time travel was that he had no control over when he traveled or how long he would stay. Also, he arrived at his destination buck naked.

I’ve often wondered what it would be like to have the ability to travel in time. It’s an ability that would come in handy...well, except for the arriving naked part. 

This much I know for sure. If I could go back in time to the summer of 1974, I would shave my head with a straight razor to get back those years I lost with my dad. But that is the stuff of fiction. My dad is gone and those years are forever lost.  I hope none of you ever lose a moment with your dad over something as insignificant as a haircut.

Happy Father’s Day.

Rick Watson is a columnist and author. His latest book Life Changes is available on Amazon.com. You can contact him via email at rick@homefolkmedia.com.